


A Very Distinctive Reunion

by Roshwen



Category: Leverage, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: And Cassandra now has an even number of cowboys, Both OT3s are excited about this, Could be read as Gen too if that's your thing, Double double toil and trouble, Eliot Spencer and Jacob "Jake" Stone are Twins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hardison has something new to research which is great, Minor Angst, Parker and Ezekiel have some unfinished business, So All's Well that Ends Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: ‘You’re supposed to be in Oklahoma.’‘Yeah, well. You’re supposed to be in Afghanistan. Anddead.’‘I can…’‘Don’t.’Or: Jake takes Cassandra on a date to this brewpup he has been meaning to check out for a while. Just a normal date on a normal Friday evening. What could possibly go wrong?





	A Very Distinctive Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a fragment, then grew into a drabble and now has fledged as a fully grown fic! Yay! This idea has been in my head for-fucking-ever and I'm so happy it finally saw the light of day. Hope you are as well, any feedback and incoherent yelling is appreciated!

It’s a brew pub, not a fancy restaurant. But then again, Jake and Cassandra are not very fancy people. The reviews have been through the roof however, so when they for once find themselves on a Friday night with no monsters to chase and no lives to save, Jake suggests trying it out. Cassandra agrees readily, bouncing out of the Annex before he has had the chance to put on his coat.

Jake follows at a slightly more sedate pace, but with no less wide of a grin on his face. He is taking a pretty girl out on a date on a Friday night and he could not be happier about this little bit of normalcy in between all their usual craziness.

‘Hey,’ Cassandra says after their hostess has brought them to their table and handed them their menus. ‘That’s funny.’

‘What is, darlin’?’ Jake asks, not bothering with the menu just yet, but instead enjoying the view of Cassandra sitting in front of him, all red curls and laughing blue eyes and all his.

‘The chef,’ Cassandra said, looking up from the menu with amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘They’ve got a little bio of him, and it says he’s from Oklahoma too. And uhm. Well. You don’t happen to have an evil twin, do you?’

Jake sort of did, as a matter of fact. Instead of sharing that information, however, he said: ‘Not that I’m aware, no. Why?’

‘Cause he’s called Esau,’ Cassandra said, amusement now blossoming into a full grin. ‘Esau Stone… Jake, are you alright?’

\---

‘Are you kiddin’ me, man?’ Hardison says, shaking his head and throwing out his arms in a helpless gesture. ‘Are you actually kiddin’ me?’

He turns, looking away from the video wall that showed the security footage of the restaurant. ‘Eliot, man, something you wanna tell me? ‘Cause I made sure. I made _sure_ that staff wouldn’t rat you out, no matter who walked through that door. I made sure the alias you gave me is rock solid, I made that bio as vague as possible. I didn’t even put in that weird picture where your face is all shadow-y and mysterious because you thought it was too risky. Now, you wanna tell me how this guy, who looks like someone took you and used you for some kind of hinky cloning experiment, figures out you’re here within two seconds of sitting down?’

Behind him, leaning against the briefing desk, Eliot rolls his eyes. But he can’t hide the fact that he has grown very pale, although nowhere near as pale as the other guy, who is still staring at the menu like he has seen a ghost.

Perhaps he has. Hardison doesn’t really know how Eliot left his old life behind, but he would not be surprised if it involved a fake death or two. Or three.

‘Eliot?’

Eliot clears his throat. Looks away. Mumbles something.

‘Sorry? Didn’t catch that.’

Eliot glares. ‘I might have used a very distinctive alias, alright?’

Hardison waits, because this is _an_ answer, but it’s not _the_ answer. After a brief silence, Eliot rolls his eyes and, with a grumble in his voice that fools absolutely no one, says: ‘It’s… a kind of childhood thing, alright? He’s called Jacob, I’m the older brother, it made sense at the time.’ He pauses, waiting for Hardison to finish not laughing before he glares again and continues: ‘Now could you please go and get him before he starts throwing a tantrum in my bar?’ 

\---

It takes a while. But after the restaurant swims back into focus, and the words ‘Chef Esau Stone from Anais, Oklahoma’ stop floating in front of his face in mile high letters and shrink back on to the page, Jake looks up. Into Cassandra’s face, white with worry, and into another face he doesn’t recognize. A tall, dark man has joined them in their booth and is watching him with kind eyes that have only the barest hint of laughter in them.

Jake has no idea who that guy is. But he knows why he’s here all the same.

‘Where is he?’ he asks.

The man’s mouth curves in a crooked grin. ‘Back office. And just so you know, we kinda need him to keep the rest of us in one piece, so please try not to kill him? No worry if you do, totally get it, but please try and keep the violence down if you can, okay?’

‘Can’t promise that,’ Jake growls, and the man’s grin grows wider. ‘Oh, that is just _creepy._ You know, if we ever need a decoy, we’ll just call you. _’_

Jake ignores him. Instead he turns to Cassandra, who has regained some color and is looking at him with a resigned little smile. ‘There goes our date, huh?’ she says softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. It’s trembling, Jake realizes, and he squeezes back a little harder to hide it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says just as softly, before sliding out of the booth and getting up. Before he can move any further, however, Cassandra gets up as well and before Jake knows it, he is wrapped up in a fierce hug that smells of vanilla and cherries.

‘Try not to murder anyone, okay?’ Cassandra murmurs. She squeezes him tight for a moment, presses a kiss to his cheek and lets go.

‘I’ll try,’ Jake mutters back. The other man is still waiting patiently in the booth and Jake turns to him. ‘Back office, you said?’

The man points to a door next to the bar. ‘Right through there.’

\---

‘You’re supposed to be in Oklahoma.’

‘Yeah, well. You’re supposed to be in Afghanistan. And _dead.’_

‘I can…’

‘ _Don’t.’_

\---

‘We got a _flag,_ El. A fucking _flag_ and an empty fucking _casket_ and your fucking _medals_ to hang above the mantelpiece like that _meant_ something.’

‘… I didn’t know they’d be that throrough.’

‘ _Fuck you.’_

\---

‘Jay, I’m sorry.’

‘ _Fuck you.’_

\---

‘Jay, I’m sorry.’

‘Fucking hell, El.’

‘I know. I know.’

\---

‘If I tell you that I can explain, are you gonna kick my ass again?’

‘Not if you get me a fucking drink first.’

\---

It’s much, much later. So much later that it has gotten dark outside, and the ice pack on Jake’s ribs is slowly turning into a water pack. He shifts a little, grunting and turning the pack to find a spot that’s still cold and presses it a little tighter against his torso. ‘At least you finally learned to pack a punch, El.’

Eliot grins, although it’s hard to see behind the pack of frozen peas against his left eye. ‘Sorry, Jay. But it’s good to see you still fight like grandma after her third glass of Sunday sherry.’

Jake starts to laugh, but it ends in a cough and a wince as his ribs violently disagree with the sudden movement. ‘Ow, fuck.’

‘You sure I didn’t crack anything?’ Eliot asks, voice now tinged with worry. ‘Didn’t mean to, it’s just… I got reflexes.’

‘Reflexes,’ Jake mutters. ‘Yeah. About those.’

He looks up, the spark of anger that he punched out earlier gaining new fire. ‘You wanna tell me again what happened? ‘Cause it sounded to me like you didn’t die in Afghanistan, like everyone thought you did, and somehow we still got the casket and the flag and the medals and everything to prove it,’ and here Jake’s voice does _not_ crack, it does _not,_ ‘but instead you… you became one of the best hitmen in the world…’

Eliot raises an offended eyebrow and Jake rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to get his voice back under control. ‘All right, _the_ best hitman in the world and now you are part of a modern day Robin Hood gang? Fucking over the rich and giving to the poor they fucked over in the first place?’

Eliot lowers the frozen peas and ponders this for a moment. ‘Yeah, that sounds about right.’ He puts the peas back into place, hissing a little as the water stings into the scraped skin. ‘But enough about me, alright? ‘Cause you still didn’t tell me why you’re all the way up here while you’re supposed to be working the oil rig with Pop down in Anais. Not in Portland bringing cute redheads into my restaurant.’

Jake’s face clouds over, and it’s not from his bruised ribs this time. ‘Company went under,’ he grunts, the words still bitter on his tongue even though it’s been almost a year since Stone Rigging & Pipeline collapsed. He watches Eliot’s eyes widen and continues, more defensive than he meant to: ‘’s not… ‘s not why I left. I left before that, about… five years ago now? Jesus, five years ago. Uhm. This might be a long story.’

‘Alright,’ Eliot says slowly, putting down the peas again. Now Jake gets a full view of the shiner around Eliot’s eye and the sight quickly dispels the gathering clouds. ‘Christ, El. That’s gonna be a pretty one.’

Eliot tries to glare, but Jake’s grin is infectious. ‘If your story‘s gonna be as long as mine, then I better get us something more to drink.’

He gets up and vanishes into the kitchen, only to return a short time later with two fresh packs of frozen vegetables, a full bottle and two glasses. He hands one glass and a pack of frozen carrots to Jake, puts the other glass on the table and then straightens up and looks at the wall of TV screens. ‘Oh fuck. Jay, I think your story’s gotta have to wait a moment.’

Jake turns around and, after a moment of stunned silence, almost bursts out laughing. ‘I take it that’s Parker?’ he sniggers, nodding at the furious blonde who has just stormed into the restaurant and who is now straining against the tall man (Hardison, Eliot told him. Parker and Hardison. His team.), who in turn is doing his level best to keep her from attacking…

‘Yeah,’ Eliot sighs. ‘And I take it that’s one of your friends?’

… Ezekiel, who is slowly backing away while at the same time, trying to get to Cassandra. She must have called him, Jake realizes, because of course that’s what she’d do. She is still in the booth, watching both Parker and Ezekiel like a tennis match for a moment before she stands up.

There’s no audio, so Jake can’t hear what she says. But it shuts Parker up immediately, it makes Hardison laugh out loud and Ezekiel gives her a hurt, betrayed and furious look for a moment before he relents, nodding at Parker and agreeing, even though it looks like the words he is saying cause him intense physical pain.

‘I think Cassie’s got it,’ Jake says, not bothering to hide the warmth in his voice. He turns back to Eliot slowly, pressing the carrots to his ribs with a sigh of relief. ‘Now, about that drink.’

\---

It _is_ a long story. So long, in fact, that before he gets to the good part, Jake takes the time to fire off a quick text to Cassandra: _He’ll live. Go home. Talk to you tomorrow. X._

He appreciates her and Ezekiel staying in the restaurant waiting for him, he really does, but Baird is going to kill them if they all show up sleep-deprived tomorrow and besides, he is pretty sure that when he finally gets out of here, he’ll want to be alone for a while. The initial shock might be over, the righteous fury has almost run its course but there’s still a lot of things he needs to work through, maybe another meltdown or two as well, and he really prefers to do that where no one is around to see him.

‘… and that’s when things got weird,’ he says, putting down the phone and pouring himself another drink. The bag of thawed out carrots has joined the soggy peas and ice pack on the table and Jake gives them an absentminded squeeze as he knocks his drink down.

‘ _That’s_ when things got weird?’ Eliot asks, raising an eyebrow so high it almost fuses with his hair. ‘You mean even weirder than you secretly being a genius, getting attacked by ninjas and having your ass rescued by a NATO terrorist hunter? Who happens to be a blonde bombshell herself, if you’re not lyin’ about that part?’

‘Am not,’ Jake grins, not thinking about how Baird is _definitely_ going to kill him if she ever heard him say that. ‘Legs for days and a kick like a mule. Bet the two of you’d get along like a house on fire.’

Eliot shakes his head, obviously still not really buying it. ‘Sure. Now. When you say ‘things getting’ weird.’

It takes the better part of an hour, a couple of more shots and some disbelieving huffs from Eliot, but then Jake finishes: ‘… and that’s why I’m here. With them, and that’s what we do.’ He nods to the TV wall, where Ezekiel and Cassandra are still sitting in the restaurant, deep in conversation with Parker and Hardison. There’s a mild annoyance flickering in Jake at the sight, but it’s soon drowned out by a warm feeling that he can’t suppress if he wanted to.

‘So you’re telling me,’ Eliot says slowly, ‘you’re telling me you’re one of the best art historians in the world…’ Jake glares, and Eliot cocks a grin. ‘… All right, _the_ best art historian in the world, with the IQ that can rival Albert Einstein and you’re part of a magic nuke squad?’

Jake shrugs. ‘That’s about the size of it, yeah.’

‘Hmm,’ is all Eliot has to say to that. And then, after a long, thoughtful silence: ‘You do art appraisals as well? Seein’ if something is real, judging how much things are worth, that kind of thing?’

‘Yeeees,’ Jake says slowly, a little surprised because this was _not_ the main focus of his story. ‘Why?’

Eliot rubs his chin thoughtfully, making a face when his hand presses too close to the bruise on his cheek. ‘’Cause we might have some use for that, every once in a while. We have a contact in LA, but she’s a little too honest to get involved in some of the stuff we do and maybe… Not right now,’ he says when he sees the disbelieving look on Jake’s face, ‘but maybe. In a couple of weeks? Or months? When you don’t want to punch the ever lovin’ shit out of me anymore.’

‘That might take some time,’ Jake growls, even though there’s no real heat to it anymore. He gets up, a little stiffly, mindful of his protesting ribs. ‘And I’ll have to talk to my boss about havin’ a side job for a criminal enterprise, but yeah. I can probably help you if you need something checked out. As long as.’

He stops, shaking his head when he sees Eliot watching him patiently from the other side of the table. ‘El. If you come across anything out of the ordinary. Anything you can’t explain, anything that might seem…’

‘Magical?’ Eliot volunteers. ‘I did listen, you know. And yeah, I get it. If we come across anything unusual, I’ll call your nuke squad.’

\---

When Jake steps out of the back office, the restaurant is dark and empty except for one dimly lit booth near the bar, where Ezekiel and Parker are still glaring at each other like two feral cats. The tense image is a bit belied however, by the fact that Ezekiel has one arm wrapped around Cassandra, who seems to have fallen asleep against his shoulder, and Hardison who is typing away on a tiny laptop and occasionally letting out low, curious whistles and whoops.

‘They look a good team,’ Eliot says gently, coming up behind Jake.

Jake smiles, ignoring the weird, lumpy feeling that is happening somewhere in his chest region. ‘Yeah, they are. So do yours.’

Eliot says nothing, so Jake makes his way over to the booth. ‘I thought I told you guys to go home.’

Ezekiel looks up, the glare making place for a little double take as he spots Eliot walking up behind Jake. ‘Wow. Okay, so you weren’t kidding about the creepy thing,’ he tells Hardison before turning back to Jake. ‘And who cares about going home, cowboy? Gotta say, this wooden booth’s _way_ more comfortable than my own very expensive bed.’

‘Told ya,’ Hardison says, before he sees Eliot’s face and his eyes widen. ‘Holy shit. Eliot, he actually got you?’

Before Eliot or Jake can reply, Parker has clambered her way over Hardison and out of the booth, ignoring the muffled yelps and cries of ‘woman!’ as she does so. Standing in front of Jake, a bit too close for comfort, she stares at him for a good ten seconds before she moves over to Eliot, who undergoes her scrutiny with something that is almost a fond smile.

She looks back to Jake.

To Eliot again.

Back to Jake.

And grins. ‘I like him,’ she says, as if that’s all there is to it. Perhaps to her, it is, because after that statement, she turns around and starts clambering back into the booth, once again making her way over Hardison who apparently did not have the foresight to move out of the way in time.

‘He did,’ Eliot says with a grin, once Parker is back in her seat. ‘Got him too, though. Fair’s fair.’

Ezekiel narrows his eyes. ‘When you say ‘got him.’

‘Just bruised ribs, Jones,’ Jake says. ‘I’ll live.’

‘Hmf,’ is all Ezekiel has to say to that. ‘Well, if everybody lives, then I guess it is time to go. You know, some of us have got a world to save in the morning.’

‘Yeah, and some of us have to give other people back the fifty grand they stole from them,’ Parker says darkly, and suddenly Jake knows why Ezekiel has been glaring daggers at Parker all night.

‘Yeah yeah,’ Ezekiel mutters, gently dislodging Cassandra from where she’s nestled against him. ‘Come on, princess. Wakey-wakey.’

With a bit of muttering and spluttering, Cassandra blinks back into consciousness. ‘Hey,’ she murmurs dreamily, catching sight of Jake and Eliot standing next to the booth. ‘Double vision. That hasn’t happened in a while.’

Jake smiles, catching her by her arms and lifting her to her feet, so that Ezekiel can free himself from the booth as well. ‘Might not be the last time, sweetheart.’

‘Good,’ Cassandra says, still half asleep, burying her face into Jake’s chest so her voice sounds even more muffled. ‘I like having two of something. Two is nice.’

‘Two is very nice,’ Jake agrees, and then quickly plants a kiss into her hair so he can hide his face for a moment. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

\---

‘I’ll take Cass home,’ Ezekiel says when they get outside. ‘You look like you… need a moment.’

With the dark brewpub behind him, and the dark, quiet streets of Portland in front of them, Jake finally feels the entire evening settling in around his shoulders like a very heavy coat. He actually has to blink a couple of times, and then swallow once or twice before he clears his throat and says: ‘I… Yes. I kinda do, yeah.’ He stops. Swallows again, more thickly this time. ‘Thank you.’

Ezekiel gives him a long look before he shakes his head, reaching out with the arm that is currently not wrapped around Cassandra’s shoulders ‘C’me here.’

The hug is brief but firm and smells of cherries and stupidly expensive shampoo. Jake’s face might be a little damp as he pulls away, but Ezekiel doesn’t comment. Instead his face grows soft before he bites his lip and then, before Jake realizes what’s happening, dives in for a lightning-quick kiss to Jake’s cheek. Swiftly followed by another pair of lips, softer and less chapped, brushing against his temple on his other side.

‘Call us if you need anything?’ Cassandra murmurs before giving Jake’s arm one final squeeze and disappearing with Ezekiel into the night.

‘Will do,’ Jake says softly, but they’re already gone. He is alone.

He takes a deep breath. Reaches up slowly, first to one cheek and then to the other. He knows he might be crying and if he isn’t, he will be soon, but that’s not the only reason he keeps touching at the same two places, all the way back home.


End file.
